


Weakness

by chibiwriter



Category: Pokemon GO
Genre: Coffee Shops, Domestic Fluff, Gap Moe, Nonbinary Character, Other, Unnecessary Hatchery Logistics, When Will My Consistent Writing Style Return From The War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-23
Updated: 2016-11-23
Packaged: 2018-09-01 11:14:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8622415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chibiwriter/pseuds/chibiwriter
Summary: Noire is an asshole. They've fought countless battles, proven themselves time and again to be a ruthless and highly skilled menace when it comes to taking down those that stand in their way. So far, only two things have been known to make them come to ground: one really obnoxious team leader and any Pokemon that falls into the category of 'cute'.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [surfacage](https://archiveofourown.org/users/surfacage/gifts).



> Alternatively: It's surprisingly difficult to remember that you're supposed to be bitter enemies when there's a tiny shiny Eevee added to the mix.
> 
> This is just a fluffy exercise that grew to be over 6k. (It's basically unbeta'd, too, so please keep that in mind.)  
> Hopefully it makes you smile! If you enjoy this and like seeing Spark portrayed as a silly but competent memelord,   
> please go check out [Jali](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Jali/pseuds/Jali)'s fanfiction _[Roommates](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8015176/chapters/18348628)_.
> 
> As always, please be sure to send [surfacage](http://www.surfacage.net/) all your love and support! ❤

The autumn air was cool and crisp, a grey-tasting sharpness to make the teeth ache if breathed too quickly in the silvery pre-dawn light. The frosty city was still, for once, quiet in a way that would be easily forgotten in a few hours when the whole of it woke up to face the day. Trios and duos of Pidgeys slept huddled together on the bare-branched trees that lined the streets, right on the cusp of flying south to escape any further cold weather, the weak light of the coming day chasing the nocturnal Pokemon back into their dark corners.

It was beautiful in its fragility - peaceful, even.

That didn’t stop Noire from cursing the cold weather under their breath, sniffing loudly in the vain hope that their nose would stop running.

They pulled their coat tighter when a stray breeze blew through, dead leaves dancing out onto the street, their loose hair billowing slightly. In hindsight, maybe they should’ve thought to tie it back - though, in the same breath, their hair was helping keep their neck warm.

Noire knew a cafe was vaguely in the direction they were headed, no thanks to the craving had been instilled within them from the moment their Eevee woke them at the wonderful time of Way Too Fucking Early, begging for Poffins.

Long story short, bad and naughty girls got put into their Pokeballs to atone for their crimes.

(They’d probably let her out as soon as they got back, anyway.)

Unable to go back to sleep and unhappy about the prospect of yet _another_ meeting with the Regional Manager for Rocket Industries later today, they’d gone down to the lobby of the hotel they’d been put up in and demanded directions to the nearest cafe whose pastries were worth a damn.

The night receptionist, a pale girl with large eyes, had meekly given them directions to a cafe called _The Magmar’s Brew_. Noire toyed with the idea of getting her something as recompense for quite possibly giving her the scare of her life, but ultimately decided against it (mostly because they didn’t know if she had any allergies and didn’t want someone going into anaphylactic shock weighing on their conscience).

She’d be gone when they got back, at any rate.

Sniffling again, they raised a hand to smother a yawn and rounded the corner - only to run smack dab into someone’s chest.

Noire reacted immediately, years of combat training and a personal hair-triggered inclination toward violence culminating in them blindly grabbing the other person’s arm when they reached out to steady them, flinging the person into and pinning them against the wall. They halted at the yelp of pain from the unfortunate stranger that had managed to startle them, apology dying on their lips when they realized they recognized this _particular_ idiot.

“Ow, fuck! What the hell, man?”

“I could ask you the same thing, dipshit!”

Heart hammering, Noire tightened their grip when Spark looked over his shoulder at them, brows raising to the tufts of blond hair that stuck out from under his beanie when they scowled at him.

“Noire?!”

“What the hell are _you_ doing here, asshole?” they demanded, pressing harder and making him grunt in discomfort. “Are you fucking _following_ me now?”

“What? No! The local hatchery had a bunch of eggs about to hatch, and they offered- Ow, fuck you! I’m _explaining_!- to let me document it for my research.” Spark shifted, huffing out a steamy breath against the brickwork he was pinned to. “Then I get to transfer the hatchlings back to our main location so Blanche can study them for their evolution research. Candela gets first dibs on the stronger ones, though, for obvious reasons.”

“A likely story.”

“That’s it! I swear!”

Noire narrowed their eyes at him, assessing his truthfulness. Satisfied, they released his arm and shoved away from him, sticking their hands back in their coat pockets as Spark groaned and peeled himself off the side of the building.

“We’ve really got to stop meeting like this,” he grumbled, rubbing at a sore spot on his jaw, glove brushing against the thin layer of stubble that decorated his face. The dark, bruise-colored circles under his eyes stood out against his pale complexion, blue eyes puffy and bloodshot in the soft morning light.

“You look like shit,” they said, shrugging when he glanced at them.

“Pulling an all-nighter to watch a bunch of eggs hatch will do that to you,” he replied, grinning when they snorted. “So, where are you headed?”

“What’s it to you?” Noire snapped defensively, scowling at him.

Spark just shrugged, scratching at the back of his neck. “Not much, really. One of the interns told me about this nice cafe around here and I wanted to check it out-”

“You’re looking for _The Magmar’s Brew_ too?!” The words slipped passed their lips before they could think better of it, blanching when he looked at them with surprised, glittering eyes.

Spark nodded.

“Yeah, that’s the one!” His expression was decidedly childish with delight. “Do you know where it is? She gave me directions, but I’m fairly certain I’ve gotten mixed up somewhere...”

“You can’t even remember directions to a fucking cafe?” They scoffed. “Dumbass.”

Noire walked passed him, secretly pleased when he scrambled to catch up. His steps fell in line with theirs quickly, longer legs matching pace with infuriating ease.

“I’m assuming you know where it is, then?”

“Well, yeah, duh. _I_ can remember directions.” They sniffed haughtily.

Spark just sighed, a plume of weary breath exploding from his mouth to billow back behind them as they walked. Noire studied him out of the corner of their eye, taking in the tired slope of his shoulders and heaviness of his steps. Even the satchel crossing his chest seemed to sag from exhaustion.

He really did look like shit.

(They fiercely beat back a niggling sense of concern.)

Still, something bothered them about his wardrobe (beyond his obvious lack of fashion sense) and Noire almost tripped when they finally registered what it was.

“What the fuck, birdbrain. I thought you said you didn’t like wearing fur!”

“Huh?” Spark looked genuinely confused. “I don’t! It generates too much static electricity - I’d get shocked by everything for _days_.”

“Then what the fuck is up with your hood?” They gestured to the tuft of silver fur that lined the garment.

Spark’s brows furrowed and he looked over his shoulder, expression clearing immediately. “Oh!” he exclaimed, turning back to Noire with a brilliant grin. “I’d almost forgotten. Guess I need to introduce you to him, huh?”

“Introduce me to who?”

Spark didn’t answer, halting in their trek toward the cafe so he could bend down slightly. Noire stopped walking as well and peered into his hood, jolting when a pair of small, slate grey eyes stared back at them.

“Noire,” Spark said slowly, smile so large it looked painful when he caught sight of their dumbfounded expression, “Meet Dumpling - the first shiny Eevee hatched for the Go Program.”

\---

“Gimme.”

“Dude, chill. We _just_ got in!”

“Do I _look_ like I give a fuck?”

Spark just sighed, rolling his eyes. He scanned the cafe for a seat, heading toward a booth near a window with them hot on his heels. It was warmer in the cafe, dark wood furniture trimmed with a deep, vibrant red pleasing to the eye. The smell of fresh coffee and warm, sugary bread floated through the air.

Noire immediately sat on one side of the table and took off their gloves, holding out their hands impatiently. “C’mon, you said when we got to the cafe you’d let me hold him.” They scowled when he snorted.

“Correction: I said once we’d _ordered_ I’d let you _see_ him.”

“Same difference.” Noire paused when he laughed. “What’s so funny, asshole?”

“Nothing!” Spark replied cheerily, shrugging off his satchel and leather jacket and tossing them onto the other seat across from them. “I just never knew you could be so obsessed over a single Pokemon.”

“So? What’s your point?”

“Don’t have one. It’s just cute!” Spark yelped when they leaned over and kicked him in the shin.

“Quit stalling and give me the damn fuzzball already!”

“Alright, alright, gimme a second,” he grumbled, looking over his shoulder as he reached back. Noire watched with intense focus as Spark slowly extracted the small kit from his hood, sucking in a quick breath when the little thing squeaked and started to squirm.

“Don’t hold him so tight!”

Spark let out a put-upon sigh, glaring at them mildly. “This might come as a shock to you, Noire, but I _do_ know what I’m doing.” He carefully rearranged the silver-toned Eevee in his grasp, cupping it gently with one hand as the other came around to support his chest.

“Whatever you say, dispshit.” They huffed out a relieved breath when Dumpling settled down, then glared at him. “Wait, was that a fucking pun?!”

He just snickered, using a finger to pet the top of the Eevee’s head. Noire’s eyes snapped back to the fluffy kit immediately, mesmerized by how his eyes slid shut with contentment.

Bless him for his little pleasures.

“Here,” Spark said, finally proffering him to them, “Take him.”

Noire didn’t have to be told twice, fingers slipping around the little bundle of fur and heat easily. They inverted Spark’s earlier arrangement, hands clasped gently for support under his bottom and on his back, and brought him closer to their chest.

“Hello there,” they cooed, internally screaming about how absolutely tiny he was, how they could feel his quick little heartbeat against their fingers, his paws digging into their palm.

He was so small. They worried that a single squeeze could - would, actually - break him to bits. His life was literally in their hands.

That alone was a heady thought.

He was lucky that they were kind. He was _really_ lucky that they knew their own strength, that they relished the times when they weren’t out to harm and could indulge in their weakness for fluffy things - few and far between as they were.

Dumpling craned his neck and considered them, dark eyes wide and glittering in the dull morning light. He chirped at them, wiggling to try and free himself. Or explore. One of his paws pressed against their chest and he attempted to stand on his shaky little legs, ultimately failing and flopping back down into their palm.

“Easy, boy,” they murmured, vaguely aware that Spark had grabbed something from his satchel and walked off, “I’m not gonna hurt you.”

Noire’s chest constricted painfully when he made the saddest little mew and wiggled some more, obviously looking to be let down. Thankfully, years of listening to their own whiny baby of an Eevee make the same noise had hardened their heart.

(Somewhat. They could still be admittedly quite the pushover when she was being exceptionally cute.)

They simply lifted him higher so they could look him in the eyes. “You’re being naughty,” they scolded, “Behave!”

Their brows rose toward their hairline when Dumpling reached out and put a paw against their mouth. Amused, Noire pressed a kiss to the little toes on their lips, snorting when he squeaked and tried to pull back.

“Aw, embarrassed?” they cooed, “Careful or I’ll eat you up!”

Noire brought the little kit closer, pressing their lips gently against his cheeks. Dumpling squeaked again, tone helplessly indignant, pawing at them again. They just kept kissing him, delighting in the softness of his fur and the warm, sweet smell that accompanied it.

Dumpling eventually got the gist of the ‘game’ and started licking at their face in retaliation. His pink tongue was soft and wet and made their heart clench in their chest.

“Oh, do I get kisses?” they gasped dramatically, grinning despite themselves, “Thank you!”

“Do _I_ get kisses?”

Noire flinched when Spark spoke, buoyant mood vanishing immediately, glaring at him when he slipped into the seat across from them. Dumpling started wiggling again, craning his head to stare at the Team Instinct leader with wide eyes when he held up a small, half-filled bottle of what they assumed was milk.

“Where’d you get that?”

“Brought it with me. The baristas were kind enough to lend me some warmed milk, though. The one in my bag’s a bit chilled and I figured he’d like warm stuff better.”

“Oh.” What more could they say to that?

Dumpling interrupted any further discussion by biting Noire’s finger. “Ow, that hurts you little shit!” They forgave him instantly when he started licking them as an apology.

“Hungry, little guy?” Spark quipped, reaching into his satchel and pulling out a small packet. Noire watched with mild fascination (idly letting Dumpling suck on their pinky to keep him entertained) as he ripped it open and dumped its contents into the bottle, twisting on the nippled cap with an easy flick of his fingers before quickly shaking it to mix the milk and powder together.

They quirked a brow when Spark rolled up one of his sleeves and pressed the nipple against his skin, a small puddle of milk forming. He hummed in consideration then nodded, apparently satisfied with the temperature.

Spark wordlessly held out his hand and Noire grudgingly returned the silver Eevee to him, trying not be hurt by how eager he was to tumble back into Spark’s palm. Dumpling tried to stand when Spark brought the bottle toward him, slipping and flopping down onto his belly with a surprised _‘meep’_.

“Chill, my dude,” Spark said, chuckling and helping him get a hold of the nipple, “I know it’s like your second meal ever and all, but-”

“Wait, what?!” Noire tensed, gritting their teeth. “It’s his second meal _ever_? How fucking old is he?”

Spark checked his watch.“Uh, eight hours, I think?” He blinked over at them, brow quirked at the strangled noise they made. “I told you that I was here for hatching eggs, remember? He was one of them.”

“I don’t give a _shit_.” They gestured aggressively toward the little silver Eevee currently contentedly sucking away at the bottle. “Aren’t newborns for hatcheries put into Pokeballs to keep them safe until they get all their shots or some shit? Why the fuck isn’t he in his?”

“That’s because-”

“You- You had him in your fucking _hood_! It was fucking freezing, asshole! What if he gets sick or hurt or-”

Noire cut themselves off when Spark put his hand on theirs. “Noire, breathe!” he said, glancing around. They realized that a couple of the baristas were looking their way with concern and huffed, slumping back against the cushioned back of the booth.

Spark sighed, carefully setting the bottle down and away from Dumpling, who, of course, protested before hiccuping loudly. “First of all, it’s kind of neat that you know that much about how hatcheries work,” he said, gently patting Dumpling’s back to help him burp.

“No, it’s just a sign that I hang out around you too fucking much.”

(Or the fact they’d personally lead a couple of missions to steal said hatchling Pokeballs.)

He grinned at them, pleased despite their sass. “I’ll take it.”

“Shut up.”

Spark paused to clear his throat, pressing the bottle back to Dumpling’s face so the little kit could continue drinking. “You’re not wrong - most hatcheries these days do tend to put newborns in Pokeballs. But it’s not really to keep them safe until they get vaccinated or what have you. Pokemon are pretty hardy from the get-go. It’s more like, uh, they’re able to put them in registries easier.”

Noire leaned forward, scowling. “What the fuck does that even mean?”

“Ugh, sorry. Blanche is always better at this explaining stuff!”

“Heh. Can’t argue there.”

“Hush, you.” Spark sat back a little, frowning to himself. “How to put this? You know how the Go Program is basically a massive data-collecting pool, right? For research? Well, most hatcheries align with one program or another - some are even aligned with several - to help get funding and whatnot. I mean, some get funding from the city or nation they’re based in, but others aren’t so lucky. Which is really weird because-”

“Full offense, but does this seminar have a powerpoint version? I think I’d like to nap through it.”

Noire almost laughed at his offended expression.

“Shut up, you wanted an explanation!”

“Yeah? I wasn’t expecting such a yawn-fest.”

“Oi, that’s just-” Spark cut himself off when Dumpling started coughing, removing the bottle from his mouth so he could gurgle through the milk. “Oh, sorry little man,” he said, setting the bottle down and patting him on the back, using a napkin from the table to wipe his mouth.

“What the fuck?!” Norie snarled. “Are you even feeding him right? Give him here!” They snatched the bottle up, holding out their hand impatiently.

Spark didn’t look amused.

“Could you _maybe_ chill?”

“Could you _maybe_ shut the fuck up and _hand him over already_?”

Spark blinked at them dully, unimpressed. “Wow, what a compelling argument.” Sighing, he rolled his eyes before handing the silver kit over to them. He waited until Dumpling settled down and started eating again before continuing.

“Anyway, like I was saying, hatcheries are not like Pokemon Centers - which are internationally funded and therefore subject to intense regulations. Makes things easier overall, I guess, if you have an organization for that sort of thing.”

“You don’t say.”

“I _do_ say! On the flip side, most hatcheries are privately owned and operated, so there’s a lot of risk when trying to find good ones to pull eggs from. I’m super impressed with the one they have here - really nice staff, run by the same family for generations. The Pokemon they get for breeding are purebreeds, too, so they’re _great_ for raw data! Not the best breeding Learnsets for them, though, but what can you expect?”

“Hm, makes sense.”

“Oh, wait, I got off track, huh? Sorry. Hatcheries are privately owned, and they’re normally funded by other programs. For the sake of not being left with a bunch of Pokemon they can’t care for, hatcheries have a system of registries - both internally and internationally. They put newborns in Pokeballs so they can upload their breeding data and basic stats to the registry in case the little ones fit other breeders’ or trainers’ specifications. The funding programs generally get first pick, of course!”

“Neat.”

“So, you see, it’s not all that dire that he’s out of his ball. I was surprised we were able to get him in one in the first place! You know, he broke out of, like, _seven_ of them, and… And I’m just now realizing you haven’t heard a single word I said.”

“That’s really interesting,” Noire said mildly, eyes only for the little Eevee in their grasp. They didn’t even so much as flinch when he took a picture with his phone.

Spark sighed, taking off his beanie to run a hand through his hair, pouting at the tell-tale pops of static electricity. (Winter was gonna be interesting - in more ways than one.) He perked up, however, when one of the baristas approached.

“Two egg and bacon sandwiches, a Caffè Americano, a green tea latte, and a chocolatine croissant?” she chirped, placing the items on the table. “Sorry it took so long to get out.”

“It’s no trouble,” he assured her, catching Noire jerk out of their little cuteness-induced haze to glare at the food in front of them in bewilderment. This was apparently a pretty swanky cafe - they even put the drinks in china cups. Dumpling meeped, burping once more before scrambling out of their grasp to climb their shoulder and hide himself in their hair.

(It was amusing and adorable how much he actually blended in.)

“Do you guys need anything else?”

“We’re good, thanks!”

Noire waited all of 2.5 seconds for her to walk away before snapping back to their normal, assholey self. “What the fuck is this?!” they hissed, gesturing to the croissant and tea in front of them.

“Uh, food? I ordered it when I got Dumpling his milk. Thought you'd be pleased-”

They were decidedly _not pleased_ and kicked him under the table.

“Ow! What the hell was that for?!”

“I can pay for my own shit, jackass!”

Spark scowled at them, reaching down to rub at the new sore spot on his leg. “I’m sure you can. But, hey - you feed my furchild, I feed you.” He leaned back, crossing his arms. “Sorry, them’s the rules!”

“Don’t… fucking call him your ‘furchild’, dipshit.” Noire scoffed, glancing back at the table. “How the fuck did you know what I wanted, anyway?”

“Went with my instincts.” Spark grinned mischievously and Noire considered kicking him again. “I figured you’d be kinda picky in the morning, anyway.”

“Why do you say that?” They narrowed their eyes at him, pausing halfway in reaching for the croissant.

Spark took a bite of one of the sandwiches, eyes avoiding theirs guiltily. He sent them a shrug that basically said: ‘ _I guessed based on how your twin acts or they specifically told me. Either way, you wouldn’t be happy about it._ ’

Noire couldn’t really argue with that.

\---

A thought occurred.

“Hey, birdbrain.”

“Hm? What’s up?”

“Why’d you end up calling him Dumpling?” They gestured to the Eevee that was currently tangling himself in their hair.

“Why do you ask?”

Noire shot him a dull look. “Given your default naming scheme, you have to grant that my skepticism is justified.”

Spark snickered, stuffing the last of his second sandwich into his mouth. “Fair point. We ordered Chinese food last night and had it sent to the hatchery. Needless to say, when things started getting underway,” he paused to poke a finger toward where Dumpling was sitting on Noire’s shoulder, “This little guy tried to go after my pork dumplings. So we ended up naming him and all his clutchmates after our food.”

“Heh, sounds like he lucked out.”

“He really did,” Spark said, sighing dramatically, “Orange Chicken and Chow Mein are a devious pair of little shits. Egg Roll’s a lazy butt by comparison. Rangoon’s undoubtedly the leader of the pack, though - she’s gonna have high attack power, I just know it!”

Noire stared at him, caught off guard by how _fond_ he sounded. Despite his words, his eyes were kind and his gestures were obnoxiously proud.

“Dumpling’s the sweetest of the bunch, and even then he likes to cause mischief.”

“Really? Good boy!” they cooed, reaching back to scratch him under the chin. Dumpling chittered happily, nosing their cheek before jumping down and toddling across the table over to Spark. He paused to sniff at their discarded plates, but a quick pat on the rump dissuaded him from hunting for scraps.

“Well, hello there!” Spark chirped, taking a sip of his coffee and holding out a hand so Dumpling could rub against it. He yelped when the little Eevee bit his finger and flopped over, paws at the ready and tail twitching.

“You little shit!” he huffed, amused, fingers fluffing up the fur on his tummy and dancing away when Dumpling tried to latch onto them, “I see how it is - you go hang out with Maddy Noire and come back full of piss and vinegar!”

“The fuck did you just call me?!”

Spark blinked over at them. “Maddy? You know, like, a mixture of mommy and daddy?”

Noire scoffed. “That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard!”

“Hey, it’s better than the alternative!” Spark protested, growling playfully down at Dumpling when he covered the Eevee’s face with a gentle hand and let him chew on his fingers, “I could’ve gone with ‘Dommy’, but- Well, yeah, _that_.” He gestured to the utterly disgusted face Noire knew they were making.

Noire took another sip of their tea, frowning when it became apparent they were drinking the very dregs. They slid out the straw and carefully licked the whipped cream off.

There was the sound of a camera shutter. “ _Nice_.”

“Shut up, fuckass,” they replied dully, licking their lips with a small smile. “Also you’d better fucking delete that.”

Spark leaned across the table, his thumb swiping against the corner of their mouth quickly. Noire flinched, sneering when he popped the finger into his mouth, tongue flicking against the smear of cream he’d stolen.

(Ah, there it was: the intense, customary eye-fucking. They’d been wondering if they’d see it this time around.)

Spark snorted at the face they made, pulling his thumb away from his lips and wiping it on his shirt. He then gasped and let out a dramatic whoop, wiggling his hand when Dumpling managed to catch it and grinning as the Eevee let out a tiny growl. “Oh no! He’s _got_ me!” he stage-whispered to them, his eyes twinkling.

Noire rolled their eyes. “I’ll be sure to deliver whatever’s left of your corpse to the Go Tower.”

That got a real laugh out of him. They stared, startled, when he threw back his head, blue eyes sliding shut in mirth. “You hear that? They think you’re such a _big bad hunter_!” he cooed to Dumpling, tugging on one of his hind legs and chuckling when he kicked at his hand.

Noire studied Spark. This was probably one of the longest times they’d hung out that hadn’t involved trying to beat the ever-loving shit out of each other - with either fists or video game controllers. It was a novelty, really.

The sun had finally started to rise, tinting the cityscape in pale gold hues that in no way were as vibrant as their sunset counterparts. Still, it softened the lines of Spark’s face, making his appearance less ragged and more cheerful. It made his fluffy blonde hair brighter, caught the amused curl of his lips, illuminated the blue of his eyes without making them gleam gold (a color they were unfortunately more familiar with).

Spark was… Handsome, they supposed. It wasn’t a jarring thing to realize - just an observation. Nothing more. Totally.

They glanced down at his hands, struck by the differences. So playful when their fingers teased through Dumpling’s grey fur, gentle in a way they weren’t when they were on Noire. They’d seen his hands curl into a fist more times than they could count, watched them tear through concrete and rebar as though it was tinfoil - which was both impressive and pant-shittingly terrifying when you knew the punch had been aimed at your _head_.

Overlooking his attachment to the thunder incarnate murder-bird currently residing in his head, Spark was goofy, unkempt, and truly only interesting because his position as a team leader. And, of course, his proximity to Blanche. (Saying they preferred him hanging out with their twin to the Valor bitch was an _understatement_.)

He was a walking contradiction. Aggressive and possessive, patient and lazy. Childish but not naive. Intelligent but never lost in thought. Spark spoke readily of peace but wasn’t afraid to lay down the law - bone-breaking optional. He knew no strangers and was ready and willing to talk to just about anyone, regardless of the benefits or dangers presented to him.

Noire snorted derisively and glanced out the window, catching sight of a harried mother and two young boys crossing the street. She had a baby girl on her hip, holding one of the boy’s hands (his other linked with his brother’s) and leading the chain of her young brood to the safety of the crosswalk.

They tilted their head, considering, before looking back at the blond across from them.

Unsurprisingly, Spark got along with children the easiest, earnest and genuine when he interacted with them, gently guiding but not hesitant to chide when the situation called for it. ‘ _More honest_ ,’ he called them, _‘More willing to learn and admit when they’re wrong. They trust their instincts completely, too - something that most adults forget how to do._ ’

He also tended to be more docile when kids or Pokemon were around - as evidenced by this entire interaction. They wondered, briefly, if Zapdos was the maternal sort of legendary (when not on a murderous rampage or trying to dick with them), or if it was just simply Spark being Spark and not wanting to hurt the innocent.

Probably both.

Spark managed to free one of his hands from Dumpling’s grasp, sliding over to his cup and bringing it to his lips. The motion was smooth, confident. Coupled with their earlier observations, it was almost as if the universe was trying to tell them that-

“You’d make a good father.”

They didn’t realize they’d said it out loud until Spark nearly inhaled his coffee.

He stared at them, wide-eyed and flabbergasted, and Noire felt their face flush. Grinning slowly, Spark wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and carefully set his coffee down on the table.

They had a bad feeling they knew _exactly_ where this was going.

“Noire, could it be-”

“Don’t you dare fucking say it.”

“-that you might possibly-”

“Spark, I’m warning you!”

“-see me as a father figure?”

Noire groaned loudly, the table _thunk_ ing when they rested their head on it. Spark let out a pleased guffaw, winking at them when they chanced a peek. Dumpling was watching them curiously, chest ruff askew and tail poofed in fright.

“Really, Noire, I had no idea you felt that way!” Spark cooed, pressing a hand to his chest, “I’m touched!”

He even wiped away a fake tear. Asshole.

“You’re about to be _punched_ , dipshit,” they growled, stealing his coffee cup and draining it vengefully. It nearly burned their tongue and the bitterness made their nose wrinkle, but it was worth it for the look on Spark’s face.

“Hey!”

Dumpling made a squeaky noise of protest when Spark tried to steal his cup back and nearly squished him.

“Oh, shit. Sorry lil’ man.”

“Be more careful, asshole!” they barked, slamming the cup back on the table. They were honestly surprised that cracks hadn’t formed in the porcelain.

The silver Eevee rolled over and shook himself, mewling chastisingly at Spark. Noire snorted at the crestfallen look on the blond’s face, their chin jutting out smugly when Dumpling trotted back to their side of the table.

“Hey, Noire,” he said slowly, glancing mournfully at his empty coffee cup before propping his chin up with one hand, “Why’d you say that?”

“Hm? Say what?” they replied, already distracted by dangling a lock of their hair in front of Dumpling and having him chase it.

Spark tilted his head. “That I’d make a good father?”

Noire froze, immediately recalling their previous line of thought. They scoffed dismissively, looking out the window. “I don’t have to explain myself to you! If you want your ego stroked so badly, why don’t you-”

Both of them jumped when a loud, obnoxious tune started playing. Spark shot them an apologetic glance when he picked up his phone, his expression brightening when he saw the caller ID. “Y’ello!” he chirped, voice soft and playful when he answered the call and brought the phone up to his ear, “What can I do for you on this fine morning, Blanche?”

They sat straighter, eyes locked on the painfully bright yellow device in his hand. There was a soft murmur from the phone, something Noire couldn’t quite catch, and Spark laughed.

“Yeah, everything’s fine.” He paused and yawned when Blanche spoke again, shrugging to no one in particular. “Nah, I’m good. Just a long night, yanno?”

Another murmur, lilting in tone, and Noire wished he’d just put the damn thing on speaker. “Chill, dude. I’m just not in front of a computer right now, so I can’t send you the stats quite yet.” Spark checked his watch. “I’m about to head back to the hatchery here in a bit so I should get ‘em to you soon.”

He hummed, a smile on his lips as he carefully arranged both of their cups on the small stack of plates on their table. “Yeah, I just had breakfast. It ran a little longer than I thought it would ‘cause I bumped into a friend.”

Noire’s face must’ve shown their shock because Spark raised a brow curiously when he glanced at them. They distracted themselves by picking Dumpling up fully, trying to ignore how the word _‘friend’_ kept bouncing around in their head gleefully.

He’d called them that so Blanche wouldn’t ask questions - that was it! There’s no way in hell that they could actually be friends...

(Why the fuck was their chest so warm and tight all of a sudden!?)

The silver Eevee meeped at them curiously, licking the underside of their jaw and batting at their nose. They huffed, pressing a kiss to the top of his head that made him coo happily.

“Needy little attention hog,” they said, lips twitching when Dumpling blinked at them slowly as if to say ‘ _yes, and your point is?_ ’.

“Alright, well, I should probably let you go. Uh huh. Tell Candela I said hi! Okay, talk to you later, Blanche!”

Noire looked up as Spark ended the call, tilting their head at the look he gave them.

“Sorry.” He looked sheepish. “Did… Did you wanna talk to them?”

They scowled. “Why the hell would I want to do that?”

Spark shrugged, yawning again and standing. He gathered their plates and walked over to the counter, his approach heralded by a chorus of shyly giggled greetings from the baristas. He responded with a cheerful reply, grinning goofily.

Noire watched him unconsciously, eyes tracing his back with something like jealousy settling in their chest. “Your dad’s kind of cute,” they whispered to Dumpling, glancing down at him and adding quickly, “Don’t tell him I said that.”

Dumpling just yawned and nudged their hand, sleepily begging for pets.

“Finally tuckered yourself out, huh?”

They maneuvered the little Eevee into laying on his back in the crook of their arm on muscle memory alone, dazzled once again by how small he was compared to their own fluffy lady. His entire body barely took up half of their forearm, ears brushing against the inner hinge of their elbow, his tail flopping over the edge of their fingers. Noire couldn't remember a time when their Eevee was even remotely that small, and the thought was sobering.

“She’s gonna fuss at me for smelling like you when I get back,” they said, scoffing, thumb stroking up from his nose to the top of his head, “Serves her right for waking me up when she did! She _knows_ better.”

Dumpling just cooed, snuggling up against their chest with a happy huff.

Noire looked up when approaching footsteps signalled Spark’s return, quirking a brow at the brown bag in his hand.

“What’s that?”

“Something for the road,” he chirped, shrugging his jacket and satchel back on and stuffing the bag into one of the pockets.

“Glutton,” they snarked, rolling their eyes.

Spark finished adjusting his clothes, ruffling his hair one last time before sticking his beanie back on. He huffed and held out his hand toward Noire, a patient smile gracing his lips when they hesitated.

Noire stood and motioned for Spark to turn around, raising their chin challengingly when he raised a brow. He eventually did turn, bending slightly so they could carefully set the little Eevee back into his hood. Thankfully he didn’t comment on the fact they had to hold onto his shoulder and stand on their tiptoes to do so.

Their fingers reached out to gently run along the velveteen fur of Dumpling’s ears when he settled down into a fluffy ball, tugging on one to get his drowsy attention.

“Hey, get stronger and grow up quick so I can put in a request with the board to steal you,” they cooed, lips forming into a soft smile when Dumpling gave a tiny mewl in reply.

“I am _right here_ , you know,” Spark rumbled, throwing them an amused glance over his shoulder.

“Your point?” They shot back, moving away to pick their gloves up off the table and slip them back on.

Spark sighed as he straightened up, adjusting the back of his hood to slightly cover the Eevee within. He checked his pockets and adjusted the strap on his satchel, eyeing them like they were about to bolt.

(They were justifiably offended.)

The two of them were silent as they walked out of the cafe, each making an uncomfortable noise when the cold outside air smacked into them once again.

The city had started to wake up, early morning commuters walking around with hunched shoulders and diurnal Pokemon rustling from their hidey holes. A few called out a greeting, too damn chipper for what was still early morning. Spark waved back to them happily, snickering when Noire glared at him.

They both slowed as they approached the corner where they’d literally bumped into one another.

“Hey, Noire.”

“What is it, dumbass?”

“We should do this more often.”

The two of them stopped walking completely, sizing the other up with equally unreadable expressions. Spark tilted his head and Noire found themselves at a loss. It was not a feeling they enjoyed.

“Do what?” Noire picked at a loose thread on their cuff, annoyed on principle. “You buying me breakfast while I play with a cute fuzzball and ignore you?”

Spark scoffed, a sly grin spreading across his face. “Sure, if you wanna call it that. It was fun, whatever it was.”

Noire considered it. They really did.

“Impossible!” They sniffed, cold weather already making their nose run. “We’re both too high profile on a given day. It’s a lucky thing no one in the podunk town recognized us as it is.”

He hummed in thought, tilting his head off to the other side. The motion was just bird-like enough to set their teeth on edge. “Ugh, yeah, you’re probably right,” he admitted, pouting, “How lame.”

“I’m _always_ right!”

Spark snorted and they punched his shoulder, grinning viciously when he yelped. There, some semblance of order had been reestablished. The domesticity that had been building up was cloying, nearly suffocating them.

He and Noire were _not_ friends.

They did _not_ make plans to have breakfast together.

To think otherwise was just _dumb_ , and Noire was not-

“Oi, why are you looking at me like that, birdbrain?”

“Like what?” Spark asked innocently, stepping toward them. He had an odd twinkle in his eye that they didn’t much care for. Noire had to fight the urge to take a step back, standing their ground and tilting their head up to glare at him.

(Fuck him _and_ his height.)

“Like that!” They gestured to the smarmy grin on his face. “I don’t lik-”

Spark bent down, quick as a flash, his lips briefly brushing against theirs as he pressed something into their palm. He jumped back just as fast, narrowly avoiding a reactionary right hook to the face.

“What the fuck?!” Noire exploded, wiping their mouth as Spark laughed. “What the _actual_ fuck, asshole?!”

Spark just whirled away, shoving his hands in his pockets with a gleeful hoot. “See ya later, Noire!” he called over his shoulder.

They growled, tempted to take off after him and beat his stupid cheeky face into the pavement. They resisted if only for the sound of crunching paper that sounded when they curled their hands into fists and, as they glanced down, they saw the brown bag Spark had gotten from _The Magmar’s Brew._

Distracted by curiosity, they opened it and peered inside, sniffing at the pleasant aroma that wafted out into the chilled morning air.

It was a cinnamon roll. With cream.

They were going to kill him.

\---

A few days later, Noire received a single text from Spark. It read ‘ _guess who was his fave! looks like he misses his maddy lol_ ’ and attached was a blurry picture of Dumpling licking the nose of their very perturbed twin.

(They made it their home screen.)


End file.
